


transmogrification

by jaspell



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Psychic Bond, it's about the TRUST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaspell/pseuds/jaspell
Summary: verb (used with object), trans·mog·ri·fied, trans·mog·ri·fy·ing, trans·mog·ri·fies- to alter greatly in appearance or form, often with strange, grotesque or humorous effect- to transform in a surprising or magical manner- to change or be changed completely
Relationships: Nott & Caleb Widogast, Nott/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	transmogrification

**Author's Note:**

> a ramble based on matt's description of the spell and caleb 'connecting on a mental, psychic, emotional level with nott' in episode 97. that exhaustion point really gets me. inspired by a lot of @alpaca's beautiful writing - thank you!

The spell takes an hour to complete.

Getting comfortable in a hollow of damp clay is not the easiest, but she’s spent nights in worse. Nott scrunches up her nose, takes a few steadying breaths, and one by one relaxes her brow, her jaw, unclenches her hands.

Caleb is sitting cross-legged on the edge of the circle a few feet away. His heart is pounding, and then it slows. The candles flicker and crackle strangely.

She can hear him begin to murmur the verbal components for the spell, repeating the same set of words over and over. Nott dimly remembers the time it failed, the feeling of dread, the disappointment, but she shoves it away. The curse is broken! It’s gone. She’s free of it thanks to Jester, and Beau too, and all of them. It’s time to keep her promise. No more excuses.

She looks about the ornate gold details of the ceiling before closing her eyes.

It’s like a sixth sense: all of a sudden she feels Caleb’s psychic influence hovering around her. Some of his thoughts have an odd shape, a mixture of one language she knows well and one fragmented, but the timbre of his voice is there, gentle, familiar, and it’s easy to reach out to.

He feels when their minds connect (like two drops of water meeting on a surface), and there’s a tugging in each of their chests, a shock as the emotions flood between them. Nerves, determination, fear, pride, comfort. _Do you trust me, Veth? Yes, do you trust me? I do._

It’s not as if they need to ask but they ask anyway, affirming and affirming back until they’re sure enough to settle into the first stage of the spell. Caleb urges her to picture her true self, and held in two minds, the image is clear as day.

Caleb already has her memorised. Not intentionally, not for the purpose of the spell (though he tells himself that). Years on the road in one another’s company have created an inevitable and permanent imprint on his mind. They watched each other a lot early on. Trusting and not trusting. Later, after they were revealed, the secrets between them never bothered either. They are a partnership, one tangled bundle of necessary lies and sheepish honesty, forgiveness and love. They need each other close to survive. Her ears are long and expressive, betraying her mood whenever her face is reluctant to do so. Her eyes are yellow-ish, gold-ish, warm, and they see more than his. She has sharp hips and shoulders, hard, bony fingers, her body is narrow.

Nott’s goblin skin is tough in places, and others soft: like her upper arm versus the inside of her elbow. Her hair is dark green, hard to tell the colour unless it’s reflecting sunlight. Her hands are clawed and rough and strong, her nails thick and unbreakable. They are dextrous; that will not change. Her nose upturned and petite. Her top and bottom canines protrude from between thin lips, not quite symmetrical. They are fully visible when she laughs.

He doesn’t know if he has imagined the changes in her appearance since they first met in that cell. Logically, she has not changed, not that much. She used to hold herself inward to seem smaller, now she only hides when she needs to and stands more straight and square. He wonders if her posture now is more or less like before she died for the first time. Other than that, though, it’s just the way _he_ sees her; all that seemed so alien at the time of their meeting has grown dear and admirable, her features belonging to her perfectly. It’s hard to think any different.

He likes routines.

But when she is Veth again, her mind and soul will be just as precious. He needs no reminding - he’s past that - this is what she needs, this is for her, as it’s always been.

His voice grows louder and the next set of glyphs light up; the candles flare.

The clay wraps around her, claustrophobic at first. She reaches to him for assurance and he’s already there to steady her.

When it closes, she feels oddly calm. Time stretches, her focus strengthens, that determination takes her.

And her hands are guiding his.

Veth’s hair should feel soft and silky, fastened into neat plaits with yellow ribbon and a simple leather circlet. Her brows thicker. Her nose more rounded - the gold ring there will no longer sit right, so they choose to leave it behind. Keep a piercing in her right ear. Her hands should be small as all lightfoot halflings’ are, but well-proportioned; she always liked her hands. Caleb takes extra care to meet what she remembers, weaving it into his arcane words.

He re-shapes her tattoos, unpicks the magic from them and stitches it back in, thoroughly, meticulously. There are moments she holds her mind still to let him work. Other parts she gives more guidance on; the full and heavy grace of her body, her scars, moles, details that only she and perhaps Yeza would know. The dimple on the outside of her right thigh, the curve of her left pinky finger, the shape of her neck, chin, chest. The rich brown skin of her cheeks struck through with a couple of uneven, darker freckles.

Nott feels the clay around her getting warm, hot, the moisture burning away.

Over time, gravity shifts. She sees a light behind her eyelids growing brighter. A part of Caleb notices her form beginning to glow and rise with the spell, the rest preoccupied with chanting, words tumbling out of his mouth now in a clamour, barely giving him a chance to catch breath. His concentration warps and wrenches, his heart binding around the heated clay, holding her tight. The last few symbols on the floor light up.

(Watching from the side of the room, Beau notes the vivid orange, his arcane signature, and smiles.)

The floorboards groan, the hardened clay and porcelain shatter, their minds burst apart.

They each take one point of exhaustion.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Changes Made](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085175) by [purpleeyesandbowties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties)




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